Into The Wild Blue

Stubborn Lion

3 weeks later
Albany, New York

"The service was sad as fuck, Lou - half the family wasn't even there," Carlos Mancini says, eyeing his late son's old bodyguard.

"And why weren't you with him, huh? Why'd he go down with those other Italian meatheads?"

Lou wasn't scared of Carlos, Lou wasn't scared of much. He knew that Tony asked him to stay close to his money, and his money meant the 60 or so kilos of drugs that he had left.

His father Carlos didn't know about this, or he would have taken it all. The truth was, Lou cried when Tony died - but he would never admit it to anyone, anyone but god in the confession booth. Catholic Italian bastard, he was.

Tony had debts to pay with the wrong people, some of the Mexicans and Russians were demanding their shipments that were no longer being picked up by Tony's guys because some good-lookin' fuckin' Jersey kid had a hand in putting two bullets between their eyes.

Lou only knew what the media told him, and what he heard through their mutual agents that were dirty. But Lou had a feeling that Cowboy was the reason his boss was dead, the reason he had to stay away from his wife and kids because he was pegged as an accomplice. And he still had those kilos of cocaine. Counterfeit money, brothels in Newark with Russian escorts.

Lou had to convince everybody in business with Tony that he would figure out how to continue their transactions. But the truth was, Lou had no fucking clue what he was doing. He was muscle, he was the watcher - he never took action.

Lou was good at not taking action.

Carlos stared at him in vehemence, awaiting a response.

"Lou, you got rocks in ya head or what?"

Lou looked back at him and shrugged

"Tony told me not to bring the whole family if he died, Carlos - more than half of you are wanted for somethin'" Lou responded

"I'm just doin' what he asked,"

Carlos nodded, placing both hands on the steel counter in the shipping warehouse they used for their meetings.

"This Cowboy kid was more trouble than he was worth, what was it to Tony anyway? That's when you stop measuring cocks and move on with your life, the guy was a nobody, with his own kids and wife - if Tony wanted to make a point he could have killed the wife or somethin," Carlos points a finger at Lou as if he's yelling at Tony in his grave.

Lou assumed that maybe it helped him grieve and didn't say anything, waiting for him to finish.

"Now my son is dead, and I'm still thinking about that pretty fucking white boy in Montana, you better tell me they put him in prison, Lou"

"He got the charges dropped, it wasn't him who killed your son," Lou replied

"Then who killed my fucking son, Lou?!"

"Charlie Davis, he was an old Biker with a good shot, took out Tony and the men with him, Butler got a shot in but he was riddled with bullets in the hospital for weeks, last I heard he was in a coma," Lou tells him

Carlos nods

"Well, we better have a wake here for Tony and the boys, you know Frankie's kid? He was only 25 that prick killed him,"

Carlos rounds the table and claps Lou on the back with his mouth turned.

"Fuck Cowboy, if I was him I wouldn't be worried about the Mancini's"

"Frankie's family would tie that pretty western bastard to a horse and drag him to death"

"We'd show him mercy and kill him quick,"